There’s something about hot dogs at ballgames.
It doesn’t matter if you do mustard or ketchup, relish or chili and cheese.
It’s the hot dog. The hot dog is what matters.
When it’s just peanuts, popcorn, cracker jack and beer in the stands…
I’ve seen it. And I can’t unsee it.
The diamond is sacred. The game eternal.
That San Francisco crowd wanted kale chips, microbrews, Coke Zero, and sushi.
AT&T Park went up like an atom bomb. You could see it from Oakland.
Millions died.
So, we throw out the first pitch, take that first bite, and play ball.